Page 13 of The Fall of Sin (The Sins of Saint 2)

“Don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t ask me something I can’t give you.”

I frowned. “You can’t give me your word? A promise?”

He bit his lower lip, and the mask he always wore which kept me from reading his expression slipped back into place. “Not when it comes to hurting you.”

A car drove by, the sound intruding on the silence around us. Saint walked around the car and stopped at the driver-side door. “Get in the car, Mila.”

I looked his way. “You’re so sure you’re going to hurt me that you’re not even willing to give me your word that you won’t?”

There was no attempt from him to respond. He merely stared back at me, not giving me an answer I wanted to hear.

“I’m not like you.” I weaved my fingers together and turned to face him. “I’m not like you, Saint.”

“A fact I’m very much aware of.”

“Do you want me to be like you? Be someone who likes pain?”

“No.” He shook his head. “You have it all wrong. I don’t like pain. I only like inflicting it.”

My heart hiccupped, and I held my breath. “What did he do to you?”

“Who?”

“Your dad. He did something to you. He hurt you. I looked into his eyes, Saint, and I saw nothing but pure evil.”

His expression remained stone, his eyes an endless ocean of stormy seas. “I’m impressed. It took you five minutes to figure out my father’s the devil.” He opened his car door. “It took me twenty years.”

He climbed into the car, and I swallowed hard. Confusion wasn’t the right word to describe the chaos inside my head. My heart. And after what just happened between us against one of the tall stone pine trees, I wasn’t sure whether now was the right time to try to sort through the chaos. To try to dig into what I was feeling.

The drive to the marina was silent, yet I welcomed it. Exhaustion filled my bones, and I had no energy left to act the part of a defiant hostage, but rather that of a submissive wife.

The scenery flew in one big blur, and the smooth motion of Saint’s car lulled me. I wanted to close my eyes as I settled deeper into the leather seat. Just for a little while. A few minutes.

“Mila. Come on, baby, hold on to me.” Two strong arms picked me up, and I opened my eyes only to realize we were already at the marina. The familiar scent of him—wild spice and pepper, comforted me as I laid my head against his chest. I was too tired to fight him. Too tired to demand he put me down so I could prove my strength by walking on my own two feet. In fact, I welcomed the solace of his arms as he carried me, and sleep threatened to pull me from reality and into a dream. The world was hazy, my mind fogged and thoughts silenced. It was nice, having someone to carry me when I was too tired to go on.

“I’ve got you,” Saint whispered against my hair. “I’ve got you now, and always.”

“Six months,” I whispered. “Only for six months.” I nestled my cheek against his chest, and he tightened his hold around me.

“You’re wrong.”

If I had a sliver of energy left or a single coherent thought, I would have asked what he meant by that. But I couldn’t. Not now.

Not today.

5

Saint

Like a fucking stalker,I creeped in her room, watching her while she slept. I couldn’t get myself to walk out after I laid her exhausted body down on the bed. The fact that she mumbled in her sleep, asking me not to go, didn’t have anything to do with why I was still hovering around.

I leaned against one of the bedposts and regarded her beautiful face. Flawless skin, raven curls, and the lips of a goddess. How did she seem so peaceful? It was practically a week’s worth of shit that took place in one goddamn day.

If I was anything but a selfish bastard, I’d let her go. If my entire life hadn’t revolved around ruining my father’s, I’d start over. I would let all this rage go and forget about my thirst for vengeance. But it had been too long. It had been years, and I no longer knew who I was without it.

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